


viens jouer dehors (come out and play)

by hilourry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, French Louis, M/M, Model Louis, Riding, bj, think that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 01:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1670021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilourry/pseuds/hilourry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a French model. Harry is the coffee guy. Louis doesn't speak English. It works out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	viens jouer dehors (come out and play)

**Author's Note:**

> hello hi this is just short and smutty because i wanted to get myself writing again to finish up my mpreg fics. i don't speak french and i've never taken french so brace yourself just in case things are wrong.

Harry should love his job; the job he has makes everyone envious of his life. But to Harry, it’s just a side job that he works when he’s not swamped with university. It’s nothing more than some extra cash every week in his pocket. He’s a broke uni student with two roommates that eat him out of house and home; he’ll do what he has to in order to survive. 

His job involves serving beverages, hot _and_ cold, along with pastries and snacks, to models. He works at a photography studio, and it’s way more pristine than Harry deserves, but the pay is decent for his crappy job. It’s mostly a bunch of half naked women the whole time, prancing around in their underwear and becoming offended when Harry offers them something to eat. _”Do you honestly think I eat that kind of food with a body like this? Water with lemon, that’s all. And don’t forget my ice!_

Not all of them are rude, though. He’s met some friendly models, and some much too friendly, giggling at nothing and rubbing his biceps, batting their mascara-clumped eyelashes at him and biting their glossy lips. Harry never knows what to do in those situations, because not only is it against his morals and principles to randomly hook up with his boss’s clients, but he certainly doesn’t want to be hooking up with women. He loves women and he’s always sure to respect them, but if he wants a good shag or a fun fling, he’s looking in the men’s department. 

He’s known since he was 14 that he was gay and it never bothered him much. He was proud of who he was and his family supported him from day one. He’s had a few boyfriends, none of which were very serious, but hey, he’s got time. He’s recently turned 21 and still has another year of uni left. He’d like to figure out his life before he looks for a life partner.

Well, that all goes to shit when he walks into work on Saturday morning. 

Harry’s been working at the same place for nearly a year and he’s certain he has never seen anyone more beautiful. Not just that, though, he’s certain he’s never seen a male Victoria’s Secret model before. Yeah, that’s definitely new and Harry is definitely on board with the idea. 

“Alright, so this is a Victoria’s Secret photo shoot for their upcoming fashion show, so this is crucial. Make sure the models are all happy, I heard they can be a bit moody and they have tempers. Give them whatever they want, yeah?” Harry’s boss, Cara, says to him. Harry nods along, holding his clipboard close to his chest. He gets so many orders that’s it hard to remember them all. “Good. Now I want a tall mocha latte with nonfat milk and one Splenda, Julie wants a Grande iced coffee with…”

Harry sighs, writing it all down. He does it every day, but it’s such a mundane job. Harry never wants to work this kind of job in his future, and his bachelor’s degree better help him with that after he graduates. 

“Louis said he wants a medium tea with skim milk and no sugar,” a women tells him as he’s making his rounds. 

“Louis? We have a guy model here?” Harry asks. A male Victoria’s Secret model is here, and he’s got a pretty, pretty name. 

“Yes. Louis Tomlinson; first male Victoria’s Secret model. He’s currently in make up, but you can meet him after, if you want. I’d hurry up with his tea, though, he gets a bit short with people without his morning tea,” the women explains. Harry can tell she’s got loads of experience working with irritable models. Most of them never eat, so Harry can only imagine why they’d be so snappish. 

He gives her a small salute and heads downstairs and down the street. Thankfully, Starbucks is on the same street, which Harry is sure was done strategically. The entire time he waits on the too-long line, he thinks about what a boy might look like in panties. He’s never had any kind of crossdressing fetish, but when he thinks about it, it might be totally hot. This Louis guy has to be gorgeous if he’s a Victoria’s Secret model, right? Isn’t that like, a law there or something?

He gets up to the register and rambles off his too-long list and he can tell the girl working there looks overwhelmed and annoyed with his order. Harry feels the same, but hey, they’re both making money, no matter how much their jobs suck. 

He waits and waits for all of his drinks to be made and grabs them all, thanking the barista quickly before heading out. He hates when he’s scolded for taking too long to bring drinks. Like it’s his fault the barista’s at Starbucks can’t twitch their nose and make 8 drinks appear, or that they ask him to go at the busy hour of the day when all the commuters are looking for their morning pick-me-up. 

He climbs up the stairs two at a time, running back into the office and careful not to spill any drinks. Been there, done that; the end result isn’t pretty. He calls out what kind of drink it is and has people running to grab it, barely giving him as much as a thank you for it. Harry’s used to it, really, but still. He’s only got one drink left, a medium tea with skim milk and no sugar. Might as well hand-deliver this one, Harry thinks. He walks into the dressing room, since most of the other models are already dressed and getting set up. He hears music in the background, and faint singing going along with it. Harry thinks it sounds like a Justin Timberlake song. He comes around the corner and sees a short boy with sinful curves. His back is towards Harry, and he’s got a pair of black lace panties that caress his plump cheeks beautifully. He’s singing and swaying his hips, fixing his hair and looking for a nightie to put on over his panties. Harry almost drops his tea. 

He coughs awkwardly, trying not to gawk. Louis turns around quickly and he doesn’t look embarrassed. God, Harry thinks he’d turn redder than a lobster if it were him, but this boy looks like he has so much confidence. 

“Bonjour,” he says, his voice soft and sweet, accent thick. Oh _fuck_ , no one told Harry he was French. Oh, god, that voice, the accent; Harry wants to fuck him right now.

“Uh, bonjour,” Harry says. He’s taken a semester of French 101, but never learned phrases like “I want to fuck you against that wall” or “I want you to ride my face”, so, that’s useless. 

“Est-ce que c’est mon thé ça?” Louis asks, and when he gets a confused expression from Harry, he motions to the cup. 

“This is your tea, yeah,” Harry says stupidly, hoping that’s what Louis wants. Fuck, he should have paid way more attention in class. Louis smiles, nonetheless, and saunters over to Harry, taking the cup in his dainty hands.

“Merci, amour,” Louis says, and okay, Harry knows what that means. There’s a start. “Vous ne parlez pas français.”

He speaks slowly, and Harry assumes that because he thinks Harry is an idiot, which is pretty much is. He’s almost positive that he said Harry couldn’t speak French though, which he’s right about. “Uh, I don’t speak French. Just English.”

“Je ne parle pas l’anglais,” Louis says with a smirk. Parle has to mean speak, Harry remembers that much. If this guy knew English, he wouldn’t be torturing him this way. Or maybe he would, he doesn’t know him well enough yet. 

“Do you speak any English?” Harry asks, hoping Louis will understand the question.

“Très peu,” Louis says, using his thumb and index finger to show just how little he knows. “C’est quoi votre nom? Uh, name?” he says, hoping he said it correctly.

“Harry, I’m Harry,” Harry answers quickly. “You’re Louis.”

Louis smiles and nods. “Oui. You from England?” he asks in a broken accent, and god, Harry loves it.

“Yeah, have you ever been there?” Harry asks. Louis nods.

“Deux fois,” Louis replies, holding up two fingers. “Uh, model?” he tries, motioning to his outfit.

“You’ve been there for modeling?” Harry asks. Oh my god, he’s never looked like more of an idiot, but Louis keeps smiling. 

“I model in England deux fois,” Louis tries again, his accent heavy and charming. Harry nods, wants to say something else, but he’s got nothing left. Not much you can say to a guy that doesn’t speak the same language as you. Man, he wishes he knew French. 

“I should go,” Harry says, pointing to the door to leave, but Louis puts his hand on Harry’s wrist. 

“Vous êtes mignon,” Louis says slowly, batting his eyelashes at him. Christ, Harry thinks, he’s definitely wearing eyeliner. He has absolutely no idea what he just said though. 

“Uh,” Harry says, looking around the room for aid. Louis rolls his eyes at him, smiling. He puts Harry’s hand on his hip, then puts his own on Harry’s neck, swiping his thumb against his cheek. 

“Je veux que tu me baise,” Louis says hotly into his ear, rolling his hips against Harry’s thigh. Okay, Harry has no idea what that means, but it sounds promising, if context is anything to go by. It isn’t considered taking advantage of a boy that doesn’t speak English if he’s the one all over you, right? That sounds rational enough to go for it.

Harry leans down and places a soft kiss to Louis’ lips, then sees how he reacts. Louis’ grip tightens and he kisses him back, telling him this is exactly what he wants. Harry is definitely okay with this. 

“Venir avec moi,” Louis whispers, taking his hand and bringing him over to a soft couch. He pushes him down and kisses him once. “attendre ici,” he says, holding up one finger. Harry assumes it means wait, and he’s definitely right when he sees Louis walking towards his door, shutting it closed and locking it. He walks back over, grinning like a little minx. 

Instead of straddling Harry like he assumed, Louis drops to his knees between Harry’s legs. Harry’s lips part and Louis smirks up at him devilishly. Okay, Harry is going to die here. 

“Je veux te sucer la bite,” Louis murmurs while unbuttoning Harry’s jeans. Harry’s breath hitches and Louis peels back his boxers, letting his cock spring out. “Enleve moi ta chemise,” Louis pouts, putting his hands under Harry’s shirt and trying to push his shirt off. Harry takes the hint and pulls it over his head, tossing it onto the other side of the couch. 

Louis looks much more pleased now, eyes dancing up and down Harry’s torso. One of his hands run down Harry’s abs, feeling the smooth bumps underneath his hand. He kisses his hip bone before taking Harry’s cock into his hand, running his tongue over the slit and tasting the salty precome on his tongue. Harry feels light-headed, like he could just pass out right now, but then he’d miss this opportunity. 

Louis’ lips envelope Harry’s tip, sucking lightly and it makes Harry moan, his hands twitching on the couch. Louis smiles up at him, cock still placed between his lips and his hands come to take Harry’s, placing them on his head. He puts his own hands on Harry’s hips, holding him down and taking Harry further. He doesn’t gag at all, and Harry wants to marry him right now. He’s perfect, besides the whole not speaking English thing. They could always work on that, though. In the meantime, they could just fuck. 

Harry gains some confidence, tugging on Louis’ hair between his fingers and moaning softly. “Fuck, you’re so hot like his. You look like such a whore,” he murmurs, knowing Louis won’t understand any of it. “So pretty.”

Louis hums in acknowledgement, nuzzling his nose against Harry’s belly button. Harry is sure he’s going to get reprimanded by someone for messing up Louis’ artwork hair, but all he cares about is coming into Louis’ pretty French mouth. 

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Harry gasps when Louis’ cheeks hallow around his dick, sucking with purpose. Harry is convinced Louis was put on this earth for this exact reason. He’s sure Louis is smirking around him. 

He pops off quickly, leaving his mouth red and wet. Harry pouts and groans, his cock throbbing on his belly. “Why did you stop?” he asks, then realizes he won’t get a real answer in return. 

Louis stands up and straddles Harry, pressing his lips to the shell of his ear and murmurs “Baise moi.”

Harry doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t know what to do, but Louis seems to have a lot of control over this. He hears Louis mumbling “préservatif" and “lubrifiant” to himself, getting off of Harry and searching his small vanity stand. He comes back with a condom and small bottle of lube, smirking at Harry and straddling him once again. Harry very much likes this position, he has to admit. Harry holds his hips, reaching to take off Louis’ panties but Louis’ hands stop him, grinning madly at him. 

“Uh, keep?” Louis tries to say, his lips twitching.

“Oui,” Harry answers confidently. Well, at least he can say that. Louis nods at him, placing a kiss to his lips. 

“Open?” Louis asks softly against Harry’s mouth, trying to pronounce it correctly.

“Yeah, yeah, oui,” Harry says, taking the small bottle of lube from Louis’ hand. “I’ve got you.”

He pulls Louis in for another kiss, tracing Louis’ hole with his lace panties pulled away. Louis whines against Harry’s lips when Harry finger presses in, his fingers gripping the back of the couch. Harry wants to pull as many of those sweet, gorgeous noises out of him. He wants him to squirm, to whimper and whine, to flush and sweat. He wants to make him come so hard that his muscles tense and his lips screw in pleasure. 

“’Arry,” Louis says, annoyed that Harry hasn’t made any new moves. Fuck, Harry loves the way he says his name in that accent. He wants to hear it every day, really. It’s gorgeous, so gorgeous, but with the way Louis is twitching his hips down to try to get Harry’s finger in, Harry knows he’s getting antsy. 

“Sorry, love, sorry,” Harry murmurs, kissing Louis’ neck softly and pressing his finger in gently, wiggling inside and making Louis squirm, just as he wanted. He hides a smile against Louis’ collarbone, biting it gently and pressing in a second finger.

“’Arry,” Louis moans, chasing his fingers with his hips. “Trois.”

“You want three?” Harry asks. He thinks he remembers numbers in French pretty well, or at least from zero to ten, but hey. He slowly enters a third digit, feeling Louis’ hole clench. Harry feels Louis grind against his chest, his hard cock straining against the lace confinements. “So beautiful.”

“’Arry,” Louis whimpers again, and god, Harry wants to hear that on reply forever. He wants to ask if he’s ready, but doubts he’ll understand it. From the way Louis is whining, though, it sounds like he’s ready.

“C’mon, love,” Harry murmurs lowly, pulling his fingers out slowly and feeding them to Louis. Louis takes them all eagerly, cleaning them with his tongue and sucking off anything left, blinking up at Harry through his eyelashes. 

Louis pulls them out, sitting up and pouring lube over his fingers. He grabs Harry’s member behind him, slicking him up generously. Harry holds his hips tightly, his thumbs pressing into his hipbones hard enough to leave bruises. Louis rubs around Harry’s cock, teasing his hole for a moment, letting the head catch on the rim, and then he’s sinking sinking sinking until he’s al the way down in one go. Harry’s mouth is gaping at it, how easily he’s taken him, how his eyes are closed and his stomach muscles are tight. 

“Merde,” Louis hisses, giving himself a moment to adjust. Harry kisses along his chest, his collarbones, and sucks a pretty bruise on his neck. Louis grips his shoulders, leaving nail marks in the tan skin, panting softly. 

“So good, so so good,” Harry moans into his neck, squeezing his cheeks in his hands, pulling at the lace. 

“Oui, oui, oui,” Louis pants on each thrust, throwing his head back and whimpering. 

“So beautiful,” Harry whispers hotly into his ear, biting on his lobe. 

“Come,” Louis sobs brokenly, biting his lip between his teeth. “Oui!”

“Fuck,” Harry grunts, watching Louis’ hips stutter, his cock twitching in his panties and come spurting over his belly. The sight has Harry groaning, coming while buried deep inside of Louis. Louis grabs his neck and kisses him deeply, biting down on his bottom lip and pulling on it, clawing his hands into Harry’s messy hair. When they pull back, Louis’ blue eyes are glassy and wide, lips bitten red and raw, and he looks even more beautiful than earlier. 

Louis pulls off of him gently, standing up and cleaning himself up. Harry grabs his phone and goes to Google translate, asking if Louis would like to go on a date with him. It’s a long shot, really, but hey, it’s got to be worth a try. 

Louis comes back over to the couch, looking a bit more presentable, and sits on Harry’s lip, pushing his hair out of his face. Harry hands over his phone, biting his lip and waiting for Louis to read it.

“Yes, I’ll go out with you,” Louis looks up, devilish smirk on his lips. His accent is still heavy, but it’s clear he knows perfect English. 

“Wait,” Harry says slowly. “You speak English?”

“I do,” Louis smiles, brushing hair off of his forehead. 

“Why did you lie?” Harry asks, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“You’re very cute when you’re confused,” Louis grins. “Still want to go on a date?”

“Obviously,” Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re incredible.”

“You’re not bad yourself, ‘arry,” Louis winks, kissing him on the corner of the mouth. “I’ve got to get out there and do my job. Will you still be here when I’m done?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Harry says. “Go ahead. I’m going to come watch, actually.”

“That’d be nice, but you should put pants on first,” Louis giggles, kissing him again.

Harry doesn’t hate his job so much anymore.


End file.
